Finally I went to the doctor today. I’ve been dreading it for weeks. The news is not what I hoped for. I have torn my rotator cuff. I knew something was wrong with my right shoulder, I just couldn’t figure out what.
I have been in pain for weeks. I probably should have gone to the doctor earlier. I just had good excuses not to. I had the cat to take care of. That was more important. Vera was here to film 2 new yoga courses, that was more important. I got COVID, which meant I couldn’t go to the doctor. Sara got COVID. Taking care of her was more important.
The problem is, the pain just got worse. A little tear normally heals within a couple of weeks. This probably isn’t a little one. Probably, because I still have to go to the hospital to get an echoscopy done. And probably, because I haven’t given it the attention it needs.
Attention in this case is rest. The last couple of nights have been good, but before this weekend I haven’t had a proper night of sleep for a month, because I was trying to help the cat get better. Now I finally can rest.
What hasn’t helped as well, is that I kept on falling. That is how I tore my rotator cuff in the first place. Just a stupid fall. I can’t remember which run I tore it for the first time. As I said, I’ve been struggling with it for weeks. I first noticed it while doing yoga. I couldn’t lift my arm properly into the air in Triangle pose.
I clearly remember when I fucked up my rotator cuff seriously. It was during my 27,5 kilometer long trail run, November 6. I’m good at running downhill, even when it’s a tricky descent. I’m okay going uphill. I’m slow anyway uphill, so no risk there. But it’s the flats that get me. I lose focus, don’t pick up my feet high enough and trip over rocks or roots.
Woozy and nauseous
November 6 I was running my last kilometers. I was tired, didn’t pay attention and fell over a tree root. Normally when I go down, I’m up and on my way in a few seconds. This time not. This time it felt like somebody was stabbing me with a knife in my shoulder. The same shoulder that was already painful. I felt woozy, nauseous.
My first thought was: ‘This is it. I have to call Sara to come and get me’, but after a couple of minutes I got up and tried to walk. That worked. My legs still did what they had to do. Slowly the pain diminished, and I started to run again. It didn’t feel nice, but I realized it was the only way to get home. I mean I was in the middle of a forest, on a small trail, even if Sara wanted to pick me up, she couldn’t.
The stupid thing
The closer I got to home, the more bearable the pain became. So, I did the stupid thing. I finished my 27,5 kilometers training as I had planned to do. The day after, I went to the vet for the cat, not to the doctor for my shoulder. That visit was the start of a roller coaster for the cat. Now that one is over, it’s time for my shoulder.